To Catch a Killer(28)

Lysa holds her hands up like balancing a scale. “I try to be the voice of reason, but these two almost never listen to me.”

Journey smiles politely.

“Evidence is my thing: fingerprints, hair, ink, lipstick. Anything forensic. We’re like the Three Musketeers.”

“Yeah. We’re exactly like them,” Spam says, tossing her hair and sounding chipper. “Except, oh right, when you decide to go off on your own.”

I give her a harsh glare. “Not now.”

“Look, I get it. You guys are all organized and into this.” Journey rakes his fingers through his hair and clasps his hands around his neck. “So, no offense. But none of your tricks or techniques can compare to investigating a murder.”

His words are like a giant thud in the middle of the table. “What?”

“I’m not trying to be demeaning or anything,” he says, reacting to my crushed expression. “But you can’t compare nailing a cheating boyfriend with catching a killer.”

Lysa narrows her eyes at him. “Maybe you’re afraid of what we’ll find. Hmmm?”

I put my hand up. “Easy, Prosecutor. He’s innocent.”

“So, who called this meeting?” Spam asks, her face devoid of all emotion.

“I did.” Journey and I say it at the same time and then look at each other like Did you really just say that?

“Dude, I thought we were on the same page,” I say.

Lysa and Spam exchange a look.

“I thought so, too,” he says. “But you’re ignoring that I’ve been doing my own investigations for five years now trying to clear my dad. I don’t do forensics…” He sweeps his hand toward me. “Or computer stuff…” He gestures toward Spam. He looks Lysa straight in the eye for a long moment.

“What?” she asks.

“Truthfully, lawyers creep me out.” Journey looks around the table at us. “I don’t care how good you are, there’s only so much we can do.”

After a long silence, Spam looks from me to Journey and back to me again. Her eyes are cold, dark embers.

“Erin, you’re my best friend,” she says. “I’d give you a kidney if you needed it. I’d give you both kidneys. But I think he’s right, you should leave this one for the police.”

“Tried. Giant fail! I practically handed this evidence over to Sydney and she shut me down.”

“You didn’t practically hand it to her,” Journey says, correcting me. “You hypothetically asked, if you had evidence, would she want to see it.”

“Right. And she said no.”

“I’m dying to know. What is this earthshaking evidence?” Spam crosses her arms over her chest.

I glance over my shoulders, right then left. “I don’t want to get into the details here. But trust me, it changes everything.”

“Is it from the box?” Lysa asks.

I don’t need to answer. My pinched expression says it all.

“I just want to slap you and call you Pandora.” She squeezes the sides of her face and moans. “We never should have helped you steal that thing.”

“You say that, but the things in the box give us an advantage.” I glance at Journey. “Do you think the police would have ever matched up what you found with what I have?”

To his credit, Journey doesn’t even blink. “Of course not. All they want to do is pin the crime on the first person they can. Which, if that detective has her way, will be one or both of us. She even said so.”

Lysa and Spam share concerned looks.

“Yeah, someone’s trying to make it look like Erin and I murdered Miss P … together.”

“It gets worse.” I reach my hands across the table to Lysa and Spam. “What we found links Miss Peters’s murder to my mom’s.”

Spam sits forward. “Define linked?”

“As in the same person,” Journey says.

Spam shakes her head. “That’s impossible. It’s been…”

“Fourteen years.” And every single one of them feels like a scar on my heart. “The killer—man or woman, we don’t know—who left my mother lying in a pool of blood did the exact same thing to Miss Peters.”

Lysa gnaws at a cuticle. Even Spam and Journey take a minute to stare at the scratches and chipped paint on the table.

I get it, we’re all hurting for Miss P and she’s the only person who would be willing to help us unravel this. But I also forget how uncomfortable it is for normal people to talk about these things. I’ve been dealing with words like blood, murder, and dead for so long I have a callus on that part of my soul.

“Alright. What do you need?” Spam asks, her voice thick with emotion.

“More information, for starters,” I say.

“Fine,” Spam agrees.

“I’m there,” Lysa says.

Lunch bell rings. Perfect timing.

“Let’s meet here after school to plan this out,” I say.

Everyone mumbles their agreement as we get up from the table. Lysa and Spam head off in one direction. Journey and I stand there for a minute, then he hands me a torn-off slip of notebook paper. “Here’s my cell phone number and e-mail address.” He shrugs. “I just thought, you know. In case you need to get in touch with me.”